Five Years Going
by YouLookLikeFOOD
Summary: What if they failed? What if New York exploded? What if Sylar had become president, under the disguse of Nathan? What if...? Set after 'Five Years Gone'.
1. Prisoner

_Everyone lost a friend on that day._

_The unlucky ones lost family._

_Those closer to the situation lost so much more._

_Some lost old bosses, or people they knew back in high school. People they'd almost forgotten, and only remembered them now because of their death._

_Others, those even further away from the situation, only knew someone who had lost a family member or friend._

_I envied those people._

_I envied those so far from the situation; the ones who got to say how sad it was without ever thinking of each and every individual that lost their lives. _

_I envied those who spoke of the tragedy as a whole. _

_I envied those who didn't realize that the number of dead listed on their TV screens was more than just a number; that for each and every person that number included, there was a larger number screaming in agony over their death._

_I envied those who didn't see the wreckage first hand._

_I envied those who didn't see the final results of the explosion._

_I truly did._

_Most people choose to believe that I lost everyone on that day. That everyone I knew and loved died in the horrible carnage. My friends. My parents. The little sister I didn't know I had._

_Some people prefer thinking that I only lost one person; someone very close. A family friend I'd always known, perhaps. My father. My mother. Someone. _

_Still others think that I didn't lose anyone. They like to believe that the tragedy of it all overwhelmed me._

_You'd think that these people could think about the others. That they could concentrate on those who had died, not on me, the one who hadn't. The survivor who promised revenge. The one who wanted payback for seemingly no reason._

_People are idiots. They'd rather debate my emotions for an hour than focus on the woman screaming in the background._

_That woman. I'll never forget her cries. I've forgotten almost everything else that happened that day; my therapist told me it was stress. But of everything I've forgotten; my name, my age, who I was and who I lost or didn't lose, I've never forgotten that scream. _

_You lose track of it all, in the movies and the books and the comics. With all of the gore, and all of the action, and all of the millions of times we see murder in our daily lives on the TV screen, we lose sight of what would really happen._

_Actors can never reproduce the sound that woman made. They can try; they can pretend to grieve and morn, they can scream until their throats are cracked and dry. But they can not break; not like she did. They can not be torn down and shattered so badly that they can never be repaired._

_She was hovering over that body so protectively. I never saw her face; I could only assume that there were tears burning in her eyes as they were burning in mine, simply from listening to her agony. The scream was too real, too close. It ripped from her lungs, the direct result of a broken heart._

_There is no other sound like it. There is nothing more pathetic, more horrible, and more anguishing than to see a mother mourn for her lost child. _

_I can only assume that was what he was. I can remember _his_ face very clearly. Broken and burnt, blood trickling from his lip. A sweet face, an innocent face. He was young, maybe twenty years old. Thick black hair was thrown about, tossed aside in the wind. His pale blue eyes were wide and staring, a look of shock frozen forever on his features. _

_I saw the woman's fingers lower the man's lids, and then I remember no more of her. Of the body she was clutching tightly. _

_I just remember her cries._

_I remember waking up in my home. There was a man there; a stranger to me. I don't remember him, but at the time I did. He was someone I could trust. But I don't remember why._

_He asked me what happened. He asked me what I saw._

_There were so many things I could say. I could tell him about the screaming woman. I could tell him about the ash in the streets, the broken and blackened bodies on the ground. I could tell him about the wreckage, so close to the original site. _

_Instead, I said four words. Four, simple, nonsensical little words._

_"The sky was bleeding."_

_And memory escapes me again. _

_I wish I could remember who I lost. Then, maybe the world would make sense. _

Bethany looked at the words, again and again. So much of her memory had faded; she could not let go of what little she still had. She had to write it down. She _had _to.

* * *

"How many people _died _that day, Peter?"

Peter Petrelli stared out the window. The scar on his face caught the light, a brilliant crimson against his pale skin. His eyes were ringed in dark circles.

But he said nothing. He refused to speak, as he had done for two years.

"How many people did you kill?" The question came again.

Peter closed his eyes. Yes, he was a killer. And not a day went by that this man didn't remind him of it. The man who had killed his brother. The man who had locked him in this prison. The man who had killed so many others.

How was he supposed to know that Sylar had taken Claire's ability at last? How was Peter supposed to know that Sylar could come back after Peter exploded a second time? How was he supposed to know that those who had died had lost their lives for no reason?

He found himself back there, remembering again. It always happened; every time he closed his eyes. Remembering his fury as he realized that Sylar had killed his brother, that Sylar had been pretending to be Nathan for years.

He found himself remembering what he had done to try and kill Sylar.

He found himself remembering the day he exploded a second time.

He found himself remembering the day the mushroom cloud spread across New York once more.

So many people had died in the first explosion. And no fewer were lost in the second one.

He opened his eyes again, still refusing to turn and face his captor. He had been locked in this prison for years under Sylar's orders. Under Sylar's watch. Under Sylar's questioning.

Just like the girl in the cell across his.

He turned his eyes briefly to Claire. Her eyes touched his, then turned away again. She didn't blame him. He tried to kill Sylar, and he had failed. To her, there was nothing more to it. People had died. But people always died.

There was nothing they could do to change it.

"What does it feel like, Peter? Knowing that people hate you?" Sylar was relentless in his questions. He'd spent five years, hiding his face, hiding his true identity, because everyone believed that he was the one who had exploded, that it was his fault all those people had died that day.

And then Peter had exploded a second time. And all the blame fell on him. The world realized that it was his fault, that it had always been his fault.

Sylar smirked at the two of them. "What about you, Claire? What do you think?"

Claire had her arms wrapped around her legs, her head resting on her knees. She was staring into space, her eyes unfocused. She'd been locked in this prison since Sylar had taken her ability. Because she couldn't die. She would never die. She would stay in this cage for the rest of her life, just like Peter in the cell next to her.

It was all they had.


	2. Bleeding

"Bethany?"

The word echoed around her. It was distorted, as though the sound waves were traveling through miles of cold, furious water before reaching Bethany's ears. She couldn't focus on them. There was no point; they weren't real. There was nothing real.

"Bethany?" This was louder. More clear. Edged with panic and worry.

Bethany opened her eyes, then squinted as light assaulted her senses.

The therapist smiled at her. It was a reassuring smile; or it was meant to be. Bethany blinked slowly.

"Any new insights?" She asked. Her voice was too calm. Too collected. Too sanitized and clinical.

"None." The word tumbled through Bethany's lips without her permission. "May I go now?"

"Of course. You may go any time you like. The question is, will you?"

Bethany sighed. These sessions were not her idea. They were given to her, the woman who survived the explosion, because the world was worried for her. The politicians needed to do something for her; if only to boost morale of their voters. Bethany, on the other hand, was far past caring.

"I'll stay." She responded carefully.

"That's good. It shows you want help."

Bethany sighed again. Everything was _good. _But nothing was. These sessions were pointless. She didn't matter. All that mattered were those who had lost their lives, and those in mourning over their death. She didn't know who she lost. She didn't want the focus on her. She wanted it on everyone else. On those who had died.

She didn't realize she had stood up, her hand clenched into a fist, until the therapist asked, "Is there something wrong?"

Bethany looked at her unbelievingly. The world seemed unreal. As though it was her imagination. As though she was a bystander, watching her life unfold but unable to touch it, to alter it.

She stared at her fist, concentrating on opening her hand. Her fingers did not want to comply. They stayed there, clenched in fury, shaking with effort.

Slowly, one by one, her fingers moved, opening the fist.

She felt the wetness on her cheek and moved her fingers there. When she removed them from her face, they were damp. Her fingers trembled, as though that single tear was heavier than anything else ever could be.

"I… I don't think you could do anything for me, doc." She whispered. "I have to go."

The therapist protested, but her cries fell on deaf ears. Bethany heard nothing, saw nothing, felt _nothing. _

She stumbled out into the streets and collapsed to her knees as the world came back into color and life once more. Ash and dust littered the streets. The air was tainted with ash, forcing each breath she took to be rejected in a cough. Wave upon wave of heat played across her skin. Pools of melted asphalt were everywhere, shimmering heat lines rising up from them.

And people were screaming! Thousands were dead or dying in the streets. She heard their coughing, their wheezing as the air poisoned their lungs with the radioactive ash.

And she heard that scream again. That blood-curdling, piercing shriek. She searched for the source of the sound, but she could not find it. She could not find the woman, that broken woman, mourning, calling out in agony, crying to the sky, pleading against the reality before her.

Bethany saw it all unfold. Watched it happen again.

She clutched her head as sharp, hot pain lanced through it.

She opened her eyes again, without ever seeming to have closed them. The world came towards her, swimming out of focus. It was not the real world. The real world was burning. The real world was on fire.

"What's wrong with her?" The words were under water again.

"I don't know! She's having some kind of fit! Or maybe…"

Bethany struggled as hands held her down against the cold concrete. This world could not be real; in the real world, there was no more concept of 'cold'. It was all burning, it was all on fire!

"The sky!" She shouted. "The sky is bleeding!" Pain and tears chocked off her words in a strangled cry. She twisted in the grip of the hands, tried to get away from the reassuring words.

"You're going to be ok… listen to me, stay with me, Bethany! You're safe! You're going to be ok!"

_I'm burning. _She thought. _I'm burning with the rest of them. Leave me here, leave me to die! I don't want your illusion!_

She let out a long, drawn-out moan. Blood splattered her lips as she coughed.

And then the darkness came to claim her.

She embraced the darkness like the old friend it was; it was more real then either world, and it was an escape from both.

Time melted and color faded, draining from the world around her. Sound blurred even further, until she was unable to make sense of anything, even if she had tried.

There was no pain in the darkness. There was nothing.

* * *

Adrian placed his hand on the window of the car. It passed through easily, the glass seeming to shy away from his touch as though it was a lethal poison.

He popped the lock and opened the door, climbing into the front seat. His hands were quick and agile across the wires; within seconds, it was running.

He allowed himself a quick grin, then gestured out the window.

A figure raced across the parking lot, so fast it was barely a blur. Adrian heard the car door open and close within the time span of a second, then turned to the young girl in the back seat.

"You comfy back there, sis?"

The girl nodded, and he turned back to the car.

"All right. Let's see what this baby can do."

His foot slammed into the gas pedal, and the car took off, the tires squealing in protest.

He executed a sharp left turn and asked, "All right. Where's the next assignment?"

"New York." She replied without hesitation.

"New York?" He repeated, surprised. "People still _live _there?'

"A few." She was unfazed by his skepticism. "Bethany Haze, Gabriel Gray, also known as Sylar, Peter Petrelli, Claire Bennet, Angie White, Terrence Elden…"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Sylar, Peter, the political pawn, and all the goons." Adrian rolled his eyes. "Guy's got a freakin' palace. And we're supposed to rob it?"

"No. We're supposed to kill Bethany."

Adrian slammed on the brakes, swerving into a perfect parking position.

"Are you kidding me?" Adrian demanded, turning in his seat to face his sister, unbuckling his seat belt in one swift, fluid movement. "We're supposed to kill Bethany? _Bethany?_ What is he _thinking?_"

She shrugged. "Don't shoot the messenger. I'm just repeating what he said."

"Is he out of his mind?" Adrian continued as though he hadn't heard her. "Has he gone off his flippin' nut? We'll be killed if we go within twenty miles of that place!"

She shrugged again. "Like I said. No shooting the messenger."

"Oh, I'll shoot _something _all right." He muttered, but he turned back to face the wheel, buckling his seat belt once more.

* * *

Claire coughed as the dust filled her lungs. She groaned and stretched her legs, allowing them to extend instead of keeping her arms locked around them.

"I thought he'd never leave." She growled.

Peter nodded in agreement. "He's persistent." He whispered. His throat was sore from lack of use, and he was certain that his sense of smell had been off since he'd exploded. His ears were still ringing with Sylar's taunts.

Claire shook out her arms, trying to return circulation to her fingers. "How much longer is he going to keep this up?" She complained.

"He hasn't stopped in two years. I highly doubt he'll stop now."

Claire groaned and popped her neck. "How long are we going to keep up the 'silent' routine?"

"As long as it takes." He replied simply.

"Wonderful."

Peter sighed and kept looking out the window. He was only half listening to her complaints; keeping focused only when an answer was required. "He'll grow tired of us some day. Until then, we say nothing."

* * *

Sylar twisted the pencil slowly in his hand. The sketchpad on his desk was opened to a blank page. Its plain, boring, white surface mocked him. It taunted him.

His eyes clouded over for a second, hovering on the edge of white, before clearing up once more. It was no use. The future wouldn't come to him. The faint glimpses he usually caught were now eluding his grasp.

He placed his pencil on the paper and absentmindedly traced a faint line. Followed by another. And another. And another.

None of them formed a picture. None of them changed into an identifiable shape. The scribbles that formed as a result could have easily belonged to a child. They were nothing. They _meant _nothing.

"A brilliant work of art, sir." The shaky voice came from behind him. Sylar heard the man's sweat splash to the floor.

Sylar whirled and threw the pen at the man, who ducked as the pen embedded itself in the wall. "It's a piece of shit, Terrence."

"Y-Yes sir." Terrence's hands trembled as he looked at the pen in the wall. Black ink oozed down from it, dripping to the floor. "Understood, sir."

Sylar rolled his eyes and leaned back in the chair. "You'd better have a good reason to be here."

"Yes sir. Border patrol picked up two unknowns."

"That's border patrol's problem. Not mine." He snorted. "You'd better have a _really _good reason for being here."

Terrence swallowed. "Yes sir. They were put through the system. The computer flagged them. Two hostiles."

"Then deal with it, Terrence. Isn't that your _job?_"

"With respect, sir, they're… they're on _your _list."

Terrence handed Sylar a file. Sylar snatched it from his hands and rifled through the pictures quickly. "Who am I looking at?"

"Adrian and Kim Transe, sir."

"Never heard of them."

"The name has been changed. They were once known as Adrian and Kim Ress."

Sylar stiffened. "Ress?"

"Yes, sir."

Sylar let out a deep sigh, focusing on the pictures more closely. Yes, there it was. The family resemblance.

"He won't _stay dead, _will he?" He muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. He sighed and spoke up, "Very well. I'll deal with it."

Terrence nodded. "Yes sir."

He walked out as quickly as he could without seeming as though he was trying to get out. However, Sylar was no longer concerned with Terrence. His focus was on the two pictures. On the pale brown eyes that he recognized, though he had only seen them on the face of another.

"Ah, James." He mused. "You just can't let go, can you?"

A faint smile tugged at his lips as a new idea came to him…


	3. Ress

Border patrol. Alex had once thought it was an easy job. A simple job. Something he could do, day after day, for an easy way to get money. Guard the border, make sure no one gets into New York if they're not allowed.

Then they had shown up. Two kids in a car. That's all they were. Probably a teenager who promised to take care of his sister, then had taken the car. Typical. Hardly a matter of national security.

But then the computer had identified them. They were wanted criminals. More then that, they had attracted the attention of Sylar himself.

Alex chewed his nails nervously, waiting for Sylar to come. Adrian and Kim had been imprisoned, and they too were waiting. But their fate was certain. They would end up dead by the end of the day; there was no doubt in Alex's mind. And he could do nothing to change the fact. All he could do was hope that his fate would differ from theirs.

The door opened behind him, and Alex leapt to his feet. He swallowed as Sylar walked through the door.

Sylar smiled softly. "How are they?"

It took Alex a moment to think. That smile was evil. There was no other word for it. A shiver traveled down Alex's spine, but he tried to clear his head and spoke as intelligently as he could manage.

"We gave them food and water-the kids were as thin as rails- but they haven't touched it. They haven't said a word."

Sylar arched an eyebrow and waited for him to continue.

Sweat poured down Alex's forehead as his brain scrambled to think of any more information he could give. "They attempted to cross the border at approximately eight hundred hours. They surrendered as soon as they saw the guns; they didn't put up a fight."

The other eyebrow joined the first. "Personal observations?"

Alex swallowed. "They were heavily armed. They could have easily put up a fight."

"I said personal." Sylar said, his tone acidic. "What do _you_ think about them?"

Alex tried to push away his fear long enough to drop the solider attitude he'd decided to adopt. "I think they wanted to be captured, sir. Like I said; they were heavily armed. More then that, they have abilities. They wanted to get into New York, and so they have." He looked in the direction of the room where Adrian was being held captive. "They came prepared. And anyone who's that prepared has a plan."

"And do you think they will succeed in that plan?"

It was possibly the most dangerous question that could be asked. He shivered before he answered. "I believe it's possible. They came with weapons. They knew the computer would flag them. They knew you would come."

He wasn't looking at Sylar anymore; he'd stopped long ago, looking instead at the door where Kim was being held. He hoped that his stance didn't seem disrespectful; more _calculating. _

A hand fell onto his shoulder. He winced, but kept it hidden.

"What's your name?" Sylar's voice was little more than a whisper.

"Alex, sir."

"Tell me, Alex. Why are you working for border patrol?"

The statement confused Alex, and he turned to face Sylar once more. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm not certain I understand the nature of your question…"

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Why are you here?"

"It's my job, sir."

"And why did you want this job?"

He shrugged, figuring he was already a dead man. Why not jump further into the noose? "Because I was good at this, sir. At noticing the little things. At paying attention, no matter how boring it got."

Sylar's eyes narrowed, and Alex's chest tightened.

But the narrowing was more calculation then anger. Sylar nodded slowly. "I want to see you in my office tomorrow, Alex. Understood?"

"Y-Yes, sir." He stammered, even more confused than before.

"Good." Sylar gestured to one of the doors. "Which one?"

"Kim, sir."

Sylar nodded and gestured to the other one. "And Adrian is in here?"

"Yes, sir."

Sylar nodded again. "Thank you, Alex. I'll take it from here."

Alex nodded back, stepping aside to allow Sylar access to the doors.

He walked through the door where Kim was being held, and Alex ran to watch the events unfold on the camera. This should be interesting.

* * *

Kim was sitting on a cold metal chair, in a cold metal room, next to a cold metal table. A plate of food that she did not care to identify was resting on the table. Next to that was a glass of water. Neither had been touched since they had been brought into this room.

And she waited.

She waited for Sylar.

She waited for what was assumed to be her death.

She waited for the man who terrified millions.

She waited for a serial killer.

She wasn't disappointed.

Sylar entered the room after around six or seven hours. He smiled, and she blinked, regarding him calmly.

"Well, well." Sylar said. The smile stretched wider. "Kim Transe, is it?"

Her eyes traced his path as he walked from the door to the seat across from her. "Yes."

"Tell me, Kim. How old are you?"

"Thirteen."

"I doubt that."

"Ten."

"That sounds more like it." Sylar nodded approvingly. "So what's a ten-year-old girl doing on a list of known criminals? Beyond that, what's a ten-year-old girl doing with someone like Adrian, trying to cross the New York border?"

She looked down. "Adrian said not to tell." Her voice was a quiet whisper.

"Oh?" Sylar leaned over the table until his face was inches from hers. "Well, it's all right, Kim. You're safe now. You can tell me anything."

Her lower lip jutted out slightly. "I don't know if I should. He made me promise not to say anything."

"It's all right. You're safe. What did Adrian say to you?"

She looked at him, her brown eyes wide and pleading. "He said we were going back home. We were going to find what was left of our old house. Because he needed to know. _We _needed to know."

A smirk crossed Sylar's features. "I think not, kid."

Kim's lips curled into a soft, cold, smile.

"You're good, though, I'll give you that."

"'Good'?" Kim looked shocked and, beyond that, indignant. "No, Sylar. I am not 'good'. I'm _the best._"

He smiled. "Care to tell me your _real _name, 'Kim Transe'?"

She smiled back, leaning back in the chair until it was balancing on two legs. She seemed completely relaxed. "Kaitree Ress. My name is Kaitree Ress. And you're Gabriel Gray, aren't you?"

Sylar stiffened, then forced his muscles to loosen. "Not anymore. I had my name changed."

She smiled. "As did I." She placed her hands behind her head. "So let's keep it at 'Kim', shall we?"

Sylar chuckled. "Very well, 'Kim'." He paused, then asked, "Tell me, do you intend on answering any of my questions?"

"Not a one."

"And nothing will convince you otherwise?"

"Nope."

"Very well. I think we're done here."

Sylar stood and walked back to the door, but Kaitree spoke once more, and he froze in his tracks.

"You know, most people think I look a lot like my father." Her pale brown eyes locked on him; he could feel her gaze penetrating the back of his skull. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Sylar didn't reply. He simply walked out the door.

* * *

Adrian was waiting.

Sylar would have talked to his sister by now. Their conversation was partially scripted; Kim kept it down to one minute. No more, no less.

Adrian lifted a hand, ticking off his fingers, one by one. Five. Four. Three. Two…

On one, the door swung open. Adrian smiled as Sylar entered the room.

"Hello, Adrian."

"Sylar." Adrian acknowledged his existence with a nod of the head.

"I thought you were dead."

"I was supposed to be." Adrian shrugged. "As was Kim. But things change, and people gain abilities."

"So that fire I started?"

"Ineffectual."

"How unfortunate."

"So it would seem." Adrian leaned back in his chair, seeming to be even more relaxed in this kind of situation than his sister had been.

Sylar's eyes narrowed. "Why are you _here?_"

Adrian's pale brown eyes locked on his. "Tell you what, Sylar. I'm going to tell you the answer to that question. Because there's nothing you can do to stop me from getting out of here and doing what I came for."

Sylar raised an eyebrow.

Adrian continued without being asked. "I'm going to kill Bethany Haze. I'm going to put a bullet through her brain. And you know what the best part is?" A cruel smile twisted his features. "You're going to help me do it."

For a moment, Adrian smirked at Sylar as he stared back at him. Silence lingered in the air.

And then Sylar laughed.

It wasn't expected, but it wasn't unexpected, either. Adrian raised an eyebrow as the laughter grew, louder and louder, in his ears.

"I see you've inherited your father's style." Sylar chuckled. "And his arrogance."

Adrian smiled with Sylar. "So it would seem."

Sylar leaned back into his chair. "Tell me, Adrian. Why would you, of all people, want to kill Bethany? As far as I know, she's never done anything to you. She's virtually harmless. What's the _reasoning?_"

Adrian shrugged. "What's that old phrase? 'Mine is not to question why, mine is but to do or die'?"

Sylar laughed again. "You're on a contract. Someone hired you to kill her."

"Correct."

"Your father would have been so proud."

"My father would have slapped me in the face."

"What about Kim?"

"Kim isn't a murderer. A thief, maybe. But not a killer."

"Unlike you."

"I do the hard work so she doesn't have to. That's how it works. You of all people should appreciate that."

Sylar smiled. "So your father told you about me."

"Yes."

"How much?"

"Everything. Details on your ability. What new abilities you wanted and why. Why you were trying to kill off every other hero."

"I suspected as much."

"And that's why you torched my house, correct?"

"Yes."

Adrian nodded slowly. "Out of curiosity, did you know about Bethany's ability?"

"Of course."

"Are you aware of its extent?"

"Yes."

"Then why haven't you killed her yet?"

"Because I have all the power I need."

"Bullshit."

"Why would you think that?"

"Why _wouldn't_ you?"

"I am unable to die. I can paint the future. I can make the whole world go 'boom' if I wanted to. I can move objects with my mind. Tell me, Adrian, why would I need more?"

"Because you always need more. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself otherwise, you still _really _want power." He leaned back even further, tilting dangerously on two of the chair's legs. "So I'm curious. With all that power, locked away in Bethany's head, why haven't you killed her yet?"

Sylar smiled. "You're observant."

"It's my job."

"I haven't killed Bethany for all the obvious reasons. She's the only survivor of the second explosion. She's the little bit of hope for everyone in the world."

"I thought about that. Political reasons. But you don't really care for politics. So what's the real reason?"

"The real reason? Bethany is the only person who can kill Peter Petrelli."

This caught Adrian by surprise, though he masked it well. "How so?"

Sylar pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. He unfolded it and handed it to Adrian.

"Like this."

Adrian studied it. It was a photograph of a painting. In it, Peter Petrelli was covered in blood, on the floor, his eyes wide and staring, empty and blank. Bethany was standing above him, her face twisted with malice and fury. Peter's blood was on her hands.

Adrian looked at it for a long time before surrendering it back to Sylar. Sylar raised a hand to stop him.

"Keep it."

Adrian's eyes narrowed, but he did as told, folding the picture and putting it in his pocket. "It doesn't matter. She won't have the chance; not before I get to her."

Sylar smiled. "I'll be looking forward to seeing how that works out." He stood. "Until next time?"

He held out a hand. Adrian looked at it, then extended his own. Sylar tried to take it, but his hand kept phasing through it.

Adrian smirked as Sylar finally gave up, chuckling and placing his hand in his pocket. "James never knew when to quit, either."

He turned to the door and walked out.

* * *

She opened her eyes. A tear sparkled as it traveled down her cheek. She was unsure if it was from her natural sadness over the tragedy she'd been a part of, or if it was simply because the light was hurting her eyes. Maybe she'd never know.

She turned her head to get her eyes away from the direct contact from the light. Blinking spots out of her vision, she looked around the room.

She tested the straps, restraining her to the bed.

"Bethany? Are you all right?"

She blinked. _Bethany. _It took her a moment to identify the word. It was her name. Bethany Haze.

She turned to the voice. A young woman was standing next to her, her long, thin fingers placed lightly on the restraints.

It took another minute for her to find her mouth. Or it could have been an hour. Time seemed fictional, the product of the imagination.

But it was no longer blurred. Bethany was no longer in two separate worlds. This was the only one. The one she always believed to be real was simply memory. Nothing more.

"I'm fine." She spoke at last. It hurt her throat to talk. Her lips felt dry.

It must have been a while before someone spoke to her again, because the straps were gone. She didn't remember anyone releasing her from their restraint, but she was glad they had done so. She sat up very slowly.

"Where am I?" She asked.

"You're in the hospital." A kind voice answered her. The nurse next to her beamed in her direction. "You're safe, Beth."

_Beth. _The simple shortening of her name cracked her heart for some unknown reason. It hurt. Why did it hurt? She didn't know.

She closed her eyes, aware at last of the real world around her.

* * *

Rachel hated working for Sylar.

She'd never tell it to Sylar himself, but she knew he was aware of her thoughts about the job. The man was a telepath; he could read her mind as easily as an open book.

So she was understandably nervous when he asked to speak with her.

She tried to keep herself calm as she walked into the office. Fear would do nothing for her.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

And then the world went black.

Sylar sighed as he glanced at Rachel's body. There was an expression of shock frozen forever on her face.

"Terrance!" He barked. The man hurried into the room.

"Yes, sir?" Terrance could not stop his voice from shaking as he looked at Rachel, a knife sticking out of her chest.

"Get rid of that." Sylar ordered, gesturing vaguely to Rachel's body. "And get Alex in here once you've finished."

"Y-Yes, sir."

There was blood still on the floor when Alex entered the room. He swallowed.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Alex asked, completely unaware that the last person to use those words had just been killed.

"Yes. I was curious… What do you think Adrian's plan is?"

Alex winced. "With respect, sir, I don't believe it's 'Adrian's' plan."

Sylar raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Alex shook his head. "In all honesty, sir… I think Kim had the idea. Adrian seems more of the type to shoot something first. Kim is the strategist."

Sylar smiled. "Interesting."

There was silence for a moment, then Alex tentatively asked, "Was there anything else, sir?"

"Yes, actually. What do you think about your job in border patrol?"

"It's fine, sir."

"Tell me the truth."

Alex swallowed. "It's… dull."

Sylar's smile widened. "That's more like it. Why do you think it's that way?"

"Not enough action, sir. No one wants to cross into New York anymore; they've all given up. And the few who do want to come in are on… well, they're on your list. We don't have much to do." The words were in a rush. Alex was still waiting for the death blow to cut him off, to finish his sentences for him, but it never came.

"So… if I were to fire you… would you care?"

"Of course I would care, sir." Alex tried not to snap; it was easy to get angry around this man, despite natural instinct to be terrified.

"Why?"

"Because I need a job."

"So if I was to promote you?"

This took Alex off guard. "I'm sorry, sir?"

"You heard me. You're being promoted."

"Me, sir?"

"Stop with the sir, will you? It's rather tiresome."

"Yes, si…Yes."

Sylar smiled.

"But, with respect… why?"

He chuckled. "Because, Alex. You speak your mind. You tell the truth; you don't hide it to save your skin. It's a quality I've been searching for in the past two years, and you're the first to have it."

Alex blinked, trying to hide his shock.

"Take Rachel, for instance." Sylar continued, gesturing to the blood on the floor. "She never said a word, though she clearly hated me. I've given her chance after chance. You, on the other hand, told me that I would fail within only two minutes of knowing me."

"I thought you would find it disrespectful, actually, si-… actually."

Sylar smiled. "That would explain why you have a tendency to flinch every time I speak. But I'm used to that by now."

"So… you're promoting me?"

"To Rachel's previous position, yes. You work here now."

Alex swallowed. "Um… thank you?"

Sylar smiled. "One last thing, Alex. Do you have a family?"

Alex thought about this for a moment. "No, s-… No."

Sylar smiled coldly. "Why are you lying to me?"

Alex took a deep breath. "Because...Maybe if I deny it often enough, it'll come true."

"So you're not happy with your family."

"Would you be happy with those who tried to kill you?"

Sylar smiled. "Very well. You're dismissed."

* * *

For lack of something better to do, Claire threw her fist into the wall, watching it heal with a bored expression.

"This sucks."

Peter rolled his eyes. He looked so dark and angry all the time. Why couldn't he just _laugh _for once?

Claire threw her hand into the wall again, successfully breaking three fingers. She cracked them back into place. At least _Peter _had telekinesis. Or even radioactivity. He could do a lot more than she could; she had to resort to breaking bones.

Then again, she was the one who had chosen this. Sylar had _tried _to be nice to the person who had given him his lifelong dream of living forever; he'd given her a much nicer room than this, a place of her own.

Of course, she'd run out of the building the second she was left alone. Sylar was forced to drag her back, kicking and screaming. Multiple times, in fact.

What, exactly, was going through his mind? Claire often wondered about it. What had he been thinking?

She shuddered.

_I know you're mad at me now, Claire, but in a thousand years, will it even matter? _

His words still haunted her.

* * *

Sylar watched the cameras, his expression bored. Claire was punching a wall, healing, punching a wall, healing, again and again, with mind-numbing repetition. It would have driven Sylar to the point of madness in the days before he'd stolen her ability, but now it just showed how truly _pathetic _his prisoner was.

What was _wrong _with her? Why was she so _stubborn?_ He'd tried to be nice to her, just for a change. After all, they'd both live forever; eventually, they'd _have _to stop arguing, or risk forgetting what they were arguing _about._

He sighed and switched the camera view to Peter's cell. He was still staring out of that window. What, exactly, was so interesting about that stupid window? The view never changed.

Sylar snorted; the man was just as stubborn as Claire. Of course, Sylar had never tried to be nice to _him. _Claire's reaction had proved how effective _that _would have been. Besides, Sylar still had a chance to kill Peter, a chance named Bethany Haze.

He tried not to think about how pathetic that sounded. Would he only treat Claire like some sort of equal because she was the only person alive that he couldn't kill?

And what if Bethany failed? What if Peter would never die? Would he become an 'equal' in Sylar's eyes? Would Sylar ever stop trying to torment_ him_?

Sylar smiled. Unlikely.


	4. A Matter of Time

Kim walked slowly around the room. Very slowly. Her steps were precise and careful. She counted the seconds, the minutes, the hours with absolute accuracy. She was good at that sort of thing; a mechanical mind, her parents used to say. Before they died. Before Sylar killed them.

She didn't allow her mind to wander; she stayed completely focused, waiting, counting, watching.

At last, it was time. She smiled softly and walked to one side of her prison.

A hand came out through the grey wall. After a brief moment, it was followed by an entire figure.

Kim smiled at her brother. "What took you so long?"

Adrian shook himself off. He grinned. "Ready to go?"

She nodded, and she took his hand. Together, they walked through the opposite wall and started to run.

* * *

The argument over who should tell Sylar about the escape went on for at least ten minutes before Alex showed up.

"What's going on?" He demanded.

Terrance sighed heavily, his eyes shifting. "Well… Adrian and Kim escaped. We're still trying to track them down, but…"

Alex didn't need to hear the rest. Instead, he walked straight to the door and knocked once.

"Finally!" Was the reply.

Alex opened the door. "Adrian and Kim have…"

"Escaped, I know." Sylar growled, shutting the lid of his laptop. His eyes darted to the cowering people behind Alex. "And for your sake they'd better be within sight of border patrol."

"Yes, sir." Terrance stammered. "They are, sir."

Sylar stood and walked out the door. "Alex, you're coming with me."

"Yes, sir." Alex replied, following his new boss as quickly as his legs could manage.

"Contact border patrol; have them ready to give me a report, understood?"

"Yes, sir." Alex replied, hurriedly fumbling to retrieve his phone from his pocket. He dialed a number and held the phone to his ear.

Three rings later, a voice barked, "WHAT?" in his ear.

"Sarah, you'd better give me good news!" Alex replied. "Are they still in New York?"

"In it? The dweebs are _running _it! They've taken control of the west tower!"

Alex paled, turning his words to Sylar. "Sir, they've…"

"I heard." Sylar snapped.

The two exited the building at last, and Sylar took to the skies, telekinetically holding Alex behind him.

But Sylar could not stop the smile that was slowly spreading across his face. They'd done it. The Ress family had done it. James was being a pest, even beyond the grave, his children carrying out his work for him.

And Sylar knew they would not re-capture Adrian and Kim. He knew that they'd planned this perfectly, that they knew exactly what they were dealing with and how they were going to use that to their advantage. They had this down to a science.

They were, after all, the two most wanted criminals in the world.

* * *

Kim groaned as she batted ineffectually at buttons. Adrian phased his hand through the console, and the alarm died instantly. "Better?"

"Much." His sister approved, speeding over to the other side of the room. "Let's see… you were right. West Tower."

"That's not going to make things easy."

"We were prepared for it." Kim said confidently.

"Still, it won't make things _easy._" Adrian emphasized.

"We knew this wouldn't be 'easy' when we took the job. Now short-circuit this thing, will you? I'd like to be able to get out of here without being electrocuted."

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Adrian phased his hand through the panel she'd indicated. He continued to cast nervous glances out the window. The glass was bullet-proof, naturally, though that hadn't stopped Adrian from phasing through it. Not to mention throwing the people who normally worked in the tower out of the window. And he could still see the vague outlines of the people two stories below, pointing and shouting instructions, uncertain of what to do yet wanting to look as though they were trying to fix the situation when Sylar arrived.

This was the one stage of the plan that did not rely on precision timing. There had been no way of knowing exactly how long it would take for Sylar to arrive, and they could not continue until he did so.

"He should be here by now." Adrian muttered. He started to pace.

"Relax." His sister told him, tapping another button, smiling as a light died. "It may take a while. After all, would you want to tell Sylar that his top priority prisoners had escaped?"

Adrian thought about this, then chuckled softly. "I suppose not."

"Precisely."

"So we wait?"

"We wait."

"What if they find a way in?"

He didn't see –or need to see- her eyes roll as she sped to a corner of the room. "Please, Adrian. Do you really think I would let them find a way in?"

He sighed. "You're right. It's just… waiting makes me anxious."

She smiled softly. "I know. It's much easier when it's planned, second-by-second. You're not very good with improvisation, are you?"

"Not as such, no."

She smiled and dashed to his side, a blur of speed as she did so. "Ah. There he is."

Adrian grinned viciously and lifted up the gun he'd taken back from where it was being held. "Show time."

The two watched. And they waited.

* * *

Sylar and Alex landed next to the West Tower, next to the only exit.

"Stay here." Sylar barked. "And if they come out, _stop them_, understood? Dead or alive, it doesn't matter!"

"Yes, sir."

Sylar took to the air again, aiming for the window. He hovered in front of it, his hands glowing with radioactive light.

Kim and Adrian stared at them from the other side of the bulletproof glass. Kim crossed her arms and raised an expectant eyebrow, her lip twitching upwards in amusement. Adrian was smirking, holding a gun in one hand.

Sylar looked at them, his eyes narrowed in concentration. _Why won't you run?_ He wanted to ask. _Why won't you just try and save yourself?_

He was completely aware that he was going along with their plan precisely, but he went along with it anyway. He placed his hands, glowing hot, against the glass.

* * *

"He's melting it." Kim noted.

"Shit." Adrian hissed. "You know how much harder that makes this?"

"It's not like it's unexpected, Adrian."

"But it wasn't expected, either." He snapped back, loading the gun. He still wore a smirk as a distraction; a taunt to Sylar.

"Just keep him busy and let me handle the rest." Kim ordered.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

Kim ran down the stairs, to the very bottom of the tower. She pressed a button.

* * *

Sylar cried out in pain as an alarm blared through the area. He clenched his teeth in irritation. The noise continued, only an irritation to most, but an incredible torture to his hyper-sensitive ears.

Still, he remained relentless as the heat spread across the glass.

Another alarm joined the first, in a higher tone. He groaned in frustration and tried to cover his ears without lifting his hands off the glass, with no success.

Another alarm sounded off, this one slightly lower in pitch than both of the others. At this, Kim reappeared in the window, the noise still blazing around Sylar.

He clenched his teeth, and Adrian grinned, placing a hand on the window which was now glowing as fiercely as Sylar's hands.

It didn't make sense. His hand should be burning. He shouldn't be able to hold it to this blistering heat!

And then he realized. Adrian had been able to fight the ability suppressors somehow. The kid was phasing his hand partially through the glass. Sylar swore as he remembered how Adrian's hand had passed right through his own.

So why was he doing this? Why was he going through with a specific plan, when he could have crossed the border just as easily without it? Border patrol wouldn't have been able to stop a car that was phasing through everything. And they had been armed; so why the elaborate scheme? Why were they doing this?

He didn't get the answers to his questions as the strain became too much on his ears. He let out a harsh cry of pain and fell, two stories, to the ground below.

Immediately, he was surrounded by border patrol. Only Alex stayed in his position; doing precisely as instructed.

"STOP THEM!" Sylar snapped, clamping his hands over his ears.

The sound of gunfire rang through the air, and shards of burning glass showered down on them. Adrian had fired through the window. He had finished Sylar's job for him.

Something ran to another side of the building and down it; Kim, no doubt. Adrian took an easier way, dropping straight through the floor and phasing through a wall once he was on the ground once more.

And then Kim was right next to Sylar. She smiled maliciously and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Everything froze around them.

The alarm stopped blaring, allowing Sylar's thoughts to form properly at last, instead of having to concentrate through the screaming headache, and the noise, that loud, obnoxious _noise…_

But more than that, no one was moving. They were all frozen in position, some leaning over to help Sylar, some still running towards him, and Alex still waiting dutifully by the door.

Sylar whirled around, thinking that Kim had left him here, but she appeared in front of him.

She grinned and put a finger to her lips.

Sylar swallowed as everything began to make sense. But he could do nothing about this as Kim raced away and time began its course once more. The alarm sounded again –though it had never truly stopped- and Sylar collapsed to the floor.

Kim raced to a car, where Adrian was waiting for her. As it began to speed away, Alex fired on it. The bullets, however, simply phased through.

Sylar stumbled into the West Tower and threw a fist through the alarm. Silence rang through the air at last, and he removed his hands from his ears.

He chuckled. "Well played, James. Well played."

* * *

Sylar hadn't murdered anyone by the end of the day, which left many people very relieved.

Sylar, on the other hand, had a headache that could kill. He didn't normally feel pain, but those alarms…

He groaned and leaned back in his chair, trying to relax but finding he was unable to. Something old and horrible had come back from his past, come back to haunt him. It was so familiar, an old friend that was his worst enemy.

That desperate, inescapable need for power.

He thought he'd gotten rid of it. He didn't _need _anything else; he was already unable to die, already telekinetic, already able to phase through objects, already telepathic… what more could he need?

Oh, yeah. Time travel.

Kim. That stupid child had that one ability, that _one ability_ that had eluded him for so long. Granted, it was only a small area of time travel- stopping time- but it was power.

And he _wanted it. _

"Sylar? Sir?" Alex carefully opened the door.

Sylar sighed. He wouldn't take this out on Alex; if anything, he would take it out on the idiots back at border patrol. The ones who had abandoned their positions when he'd fallen. After all, it wasn't as though he could _die._

"I thought I told you to drop the 'sir'."

"Yes…" He trailed off, trying to think of something to fill in the gap.

Sylar smirked. "Try 'Sylar.'"

Alex raised an eyebrow. "A little… familiar, isn't it?"

Sylar shrugged. "You get somewhat bored of formality."

"I see."

Sylar's lip twitched upwards. He liked this kid. "What did you want, anyway?"

"Well… I…" He took a deep breath, as though steadying himself. "I wondered if you knew why Adrian and Kim went through that whole… charade. With their abilities, they could have easily crossed the border without being captured in the first place, after all."

Sylar was impressed; none of the others had noticed this, and if they did, they didn't have the guts to ask about it. "Go on."

"Well… if they only wanted to cross the border, it could have been done. And I…" He paused, then admitted. "I watched your interview with them on the cameras… Adrian said something about killing Bethany Haze."

Sylar raised an eyebrow, keeping his expression neutral. "And…?"

"And how he was going to do it… with your help."

Sylar's eyes locked on his. "So tell me, Alex. What do _you _think they're trying to do? Why do _you _think they went through that whole ordeal?"

"Well, quite frankly, I think they did it to piss you off."

Sylar smiled at last, giving Alex a chance to breathe. "They were rather successful, I'll admit. But that wasn't the only reason." He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Sit down. There's something you need to know about those two."

Alex did as told.

"I think you're right; Kim was the brains behind the plan. She figured out the precise timing. She figured out how to keep from taking the ability suppressors. She made up a plan so simple, yet so elaborate that it made absolutely _no sense. _It had no point; nothing they did lasted. It was just one random event to the next, all combining to let them escape.

"But then, just when they were free, Kim turned back. And she did something that I believe was outside of Adrian's knowledge. She moved quickly enough to stop time."

Alex's eyes were wide as Sylar asked, "Do you know how hard I've tried to become a time traveler?"

And then it clicked. Alex slowly began to understand. "So this whole thing… pissing you off, trying to get you to follow them… they just wanted you. The whole time. Because they want to force you to kill Bethany." He sighed heavily. "There _has _to be an easier way to kill someone."

Sylar smiled. "Oh, there is. But it's not all about Bethany; Adrian and Kim have a little… ah… _personal _business with me."

"How so?"

"You don't want to know."

Alex thought about this for a moment, then replied. "With respect, I think I _need _to know."

Sylar raised an eyebrow.

"After all, you did assign me to find them. Know your enemy, correct?"

The other eyebrow joined the first one, and Sylar replied, in complete honesty, "I killed their parents and tried to torch their house with them still inside."

Alex didn't even blink. He knew that he was working for a murderer. "But they survived."

"Obviously."

"One question; why?"

"Why did they survive?"

"Why did you kill their parents?"

"Because their father was a pain and their mother had an ability I wanted."

"Simple enough. And the children themselves?"

"Their father taught them well. Too well."

Alex nodded slowly. "So… do you think it's the right thing to follow along with their plan? To play along and try and take Kim's ability, when you know they'll be ready to force your hand into taking Bethany's life?"

"That's why I'm trying to find them _before _they reach Bethany."

Alex thought about this for a moment, then asked, "What if we were to bring Bethany here?"

Sylar raised an eyebrow.

"If Bethany was here, Adrian and Kim would have to come back."

The other eyebrow joined the first. "They're probably counting on us doing exactly that. They're smart; they'll have plans for any step we take."

"Then think around those plans! Imagine every possibility of their success and plan against it!"

Sylar shot a glare at him. "Don't you think I've thought of that, Alex?"

Alex, knowing that Sylar hated cowards, stood tall. "I never said you didn't, _Sylar._ But you hired me for a _reason, _didn't you? Can you blame me for trying to do my _job?_"

For a moment, the air crackled with tension. Sylar was rising from his chair, towering over Alex, his eyes burning with an angry black fire. Alex did his best to hide his fear, staring back at his employer.

But then Sylar laughed. He sat back down again, chuckling. Alex smiled good-naturedly.

"Very good." Sylar praised him. "I didn't think you had the guts. Clearly I was mistaken."

"Clearly."

Sylar thought for a moment, considering the options ahead of him.

His thoughts were disturbed by the sound of panic outside.

* * *

Adrian wasn't speaking to Kim.

His hands kept tightening around the wheel. His knuckles were beginning to turn white.

Kim allowed him his silence, staring out the window and giving him time to figure out what needed to be said.

When Adrian finally spoke, there were no words of congratulations for a plan well done. There was no fury at her revealing her ability to Sylar.

No, there were just five simple little words.

"He's going to kill you."

"Yes." Kim replied coolly.

Adrian turned sharply left, parking the car on the edge of the road with complete precision, causing a few skid marks to appear on the road.

"_What were you thinking?_" His voice was suddenly a thousand times louder than it had been. "Showing _him _your _ability! _You're dead, Kim! You as good as _dead!_"

Kim kept her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes locked on the floor. "I did what needed to be done."

Despite the control that the ten-year-old normally kept over her emotions, despite the blank, emotionless stare that she had perfected over her years, despite everything, Kim could not stop the tear that rolled down her cheek.

Seeing this, Adrian's features softened. He phased through his seat, next to her in a second, his arm wrapped around her shoulder.

She wiped her eyes, furious with herself, but Adrian took her wrist in his hands. She looked at him, and their eyes locked for a moment.

She burst out crying, sobbing into his shoulder as he hugged her closely.

"I had to do it!" She cried, her breath hitching in her throat. "I had to do it! To keep him on our trail, don't you see? Curiosity wasn't enough, not anymore!"

"It's ok… It's ok…" Adrian whispered in her ear. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled… it's ok, you'll be ok…"

But they both knew that he was lying.

* * *

Terrance stared. He couldn't help it. He'd seen many strange things in his life. But none of them could have prepared him for this.

The boy had just appeared in front of them. No older than nineteen, with a shock of brown hair and bright blue eyes. Panic filled his features.

"Kaitree!" He kept crying. "Please, I need to speak to Kaitree Ress!"

It was inevitable, Terrance supposed, that Sylar would hear the commotion. The door to his office was flung open, and the man himself walked out only a second later.

He took in the situation with a single, quick glance. He walked over to the stranger, his eyes sparkling with fire.

With one quick, casual blow, he had the boy on the ground, his foot planted firmly in his chest. The stranger gasped for air, struggling violently, but Sylar didn't release him.

"What's going on, Terrance?" Sylar demanded, his voice calm, his words poison.

Terrance shook. "I-I don't k-know, sir! He just… appeared!"

"Kaitree…!" The stranger breathed, his lips moving quickly, the words trying desperately to come out. "Please, I need to talk to… Kaitree… Ress…"

Sylar's eyes landed on the boy, narrowing dangerously. "Why are you here?"

Unsatisfied with the boy's inability to speak, Sylar made it worse, striking him in the throat.

Sylar's head tilted to the side as he listened to the stranger's thoughts. "Jonathon, why are you here?" He asked again, snatching the name from the boy's mind.

When no answer came, Sylar reached down for the boy's arm and rolled up his sleeve. A tattoo marked his left wrist, a red square with a bright blue 'S' in its center.

Sylar's eyes widened. "You have the Shanti virus." He breathed.

The stranger, Jonathon, nodded furiously, chocking slightly.

"But how could Kaitree… she couldn't help you. Unless…" Sylar's eyes widened even further as he continued to listen to Jonathon's thoughts. "What year is it?" He demanded.

"2-2005!" Jonathon finally managed to splutter out.

Sylar stared. He took his foot off of the man's chest, and Jonathon began to cough and gasp.

Sylar turned to Alex, who was staring at Jonathon. "Get him out of here."

"Yes, sir." Alex said, returning to formality.

"Next to Peter." Sylar added, spitting the words out.

Terrance and Alex paled at the same time. "But, sir…" Terrance interjected.

_"NOW!"_ Sylar snarled out, striding past them.

Alex exchanged a look with Terrance, who sighed heavily and pulled Jonathon from the ground.

Alex dashed into the office next to Sylar.

"She's a time traveler. That freaking kid is a _time traveler." _Sylar was muttering furiously, pacing back and forth. His hands were clasped behind his back, though Alex had the distinct feeling that Sylar would prefer having them around someone's neck. Alex decided that it was best for him to keep his distance.

"Sir…?"

Sylar threw an electric burst in his direction. Alex ducked, then straightened.

"Sir, I'm not exactly certain on the significance of this 'Jonathon's' arrival…"

Sylar's eyes locked on Alex's, and the words died in his throat.

"Get. Bethany. Here." Sylar said through clenched teeth. "_Now._"

* * *

Bethany Haze stared into the distance, looking out the window as the scenery whipped past her. She wasn't certain how she'd gotten here, into this car, but she wasn't particularly worried about it, either.

The man in front of her had a name, she knew, as he'd told her what it was. But already she'd forgotten it. But he didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

She looked down at her hands, curious at the piece of paper that she knew had persuaded her to go with this man. She wondered what it was.

She looked down at it, and a man stared back up at her from a picture. He had dark hair and eyes, and a long, jagged scar across his face. She knew his name, though she'd long ago forgotten it to a mist of time and hate.

He was the exploding man, she remembered. He was responsible for all those deaths, those long years ago. It was all his fault. Everything.

Her hand tightened around the picture. That was why she was leaving, she realized. That was where she was going. She was going to see this man.

And she was going to kill him.

* * *

Adrian swore as he watched the men place Bethany into a black car.

Kim sighed. "This is it, then. He's made his move."

Adrian just let out another swear.

"We need to move." Kim said, straightening and turning back to their own stolen vehicle. Her tears had now vanished, leaving behind only a cold, emotionless individual.

Adrian sighed and sat in the driver's seat. "You realize that this has just become a thousand times more complicated, correct?"

"Of course."

He paused. "You know, I'm not normally one to doubt you, Kim, but I think… maybe we should just do what we were asked. Kill Bethany and get out of the way."

"No." Kim's voice was hard. "We've put too much time and effort into this. Besides, it's too late. Sylar knows we're here. He knows what we're planning. We have to follow through."

Adrian studied his sister for a moment, then nodded. "If you think it's best."

"Of course." Kim replied.

Adrian started the car, but instead of following Bethany, they turned and went in the opposite direction.

They drove in silence for only a moment before Adrian asked, "What makes you so certain he'll want to help us?"

Kim's lips twitched upwards in a smile. "It's only a matter of time before he'd become involved, with or without our help."

Adrian swallowed, not particularly liking the look on his sister's face. "So you think now is the time?"

The smile grew, dark and inhuman.

"Absolutely."

**A/N: Special thanks to Little Miss Fearless, whose review broke my writer's block on this story. :) **


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